Bad Day At The Office
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The story of a man trying to come to terms with life after his wife's death
It started before I even got to the office that day; although I suppose it had really started two years previously.
Too years to the day, to be precise. Some idiot, being a flash BMW driver, didn't believe he needed to bother to look up and down the road properly. He pulled out in front of a motorcycle, which follow-up reports say was travelling at around forty five mph, well within the fifty mph speed limit. I had bought that bike, a Honda VFR, two weeks earlier, as a silver anniversary present for my wife. The young police sergeant, who had the unenviable task of informing me of the accident, said the only consolation was that my wife had died instantly. Somehow I couldn't find any comfort in that. I wished it had been me, Jane would have coped a lot better than I did. Also, selfishly, I wished she'd lived long enough for me to say at least a last goodbye.
To say that I loved her would be the biggest understatement you could make. Out of the blue, at forty-eight years old, I was left alone, with just my anger and guilt.
Everyone around, especially our two adult children, told me it was not my fault and on a cerebral level I knew they were right, yet I couldn't help dwelling on the new bike. Would she have been in the same spot had she been riding her old bike? I didn't think so, therefore I had had a major influence on her death. My anger at the driver and the world in general drove all but the most loyal of my friends away.
When, at the court case, the BMW driver, a wealthy businessman, got away with a small fine and a virtual slap on the wrist, my twenty-one year old son had to forcibly keep me back from attacking him. To show how our so called justice system works in the hands of left-wing do-gooders, I was fined more than the killer for contempt of court, which was ironic because that is exactly what I felt for the people there; utter contempt.
I'd only been in my job a couple of years when the accident happened and, looking back, I am amazed at how well I was treated. Julie Thompson, head of Personnel or in these PC days, should I say H.R., was great. She was very sympathetic and gave me as much time off as I needed, and I needed a lot.
The intervening couple of years had proved difficult, and at times I'd sunk low enough to consider suicide, although fortunately never low enough to actually try it. It was my children, and a surprisingly amount of my work colleagues, that always managed to lift me from that particular pit.
As I drove into work that day, the events of two years ago were on my mind, perhaps even more so because I followed a motorcyclist. The bike was green, which inevitably meant Kawasaki, this particular one being a 600cc Ninja. I might not ride now; I hadn't ridden a bike since Jane died; but I still knew and was interested in them. The Ninja was easy for me to identify as my son had an identical bike, even if his was a few years older.
About a mile from work a car pulled out directly in front of the bike, causing him to brake hard. To make matters worse for me the car was another BMW. The rider, mainly because of the traffic, had not been riding quickly at all and even then could not stop in time. The bike was only doing about five mile an hour when it collided with the side of the car; just enough to force the rider to fall off, but not enough to cause any serious injury. I felt a red mist, as I stopped some ten feet from the incident, jumped out of my own vehicle and ran to the rider. Seeing that he was okay, I literally pulled the driver from his car shouting and yelling abuse at him. I'm afraid that he took a lot of what I wanted to say to the driver two years before. As I am 6'6" tall and weigh about 18 stone (250 lbs) I can be quite intimidating at the best of times and the young car driver was cowering against his car as my tirade continued.
Eventually it was the bike rider himself that pulled me away; he had removed his lid (helmet) and was actually smiling. He said that he couldn't have said it any better, nor put the fear of god up him anywhere near as well as I had. About the same time two police officers approached. They had obviously seen what was going on even if they hadn't seen the actual bump. The elder of the two took me firmly by the arm and led me away whilst his colleague spoke to the rider.
He asked me politely what the hell I thought I was doing. As my breathing gradually slowed down to a more normal level I explained what had happened. The officer nodded but then asked why I had reacted so strongly. I reluctantly explained the anniversary and the coincidental make of car. He said that he understood but didn't condone my actions, before taking my contact details and suggested I resume my trip to work.
Needless to say, I was not in the best of moods at work that morning, so when Terry started her diatribe it wasn't too surprising I reacted.
Teresa McGinnis, Terry as she preferred, was head of the company's test team, which itself was part of the IT department, where I worked. I didn't know her that well, as her office was on the floor above ours, but our paths had crossed a few times. She had a soft Irish lilt to her voice but that was all that was soft. She was standing a few desks away when I became aware of her voice increasing in volume. I looked up and saw that she was dressed as usual. That is, to put it bluntly, like a tart; ultra short skirt, blouse chosen to display the most cleavage and heels way too high for the office. Her face was plastered with make-up. Apart from her lovely voice, an accent that I love, her only other redeeming feature was long and wavy copper hair, a colour you either love or hate; I adore it. The hair and accent went well together, though I nastily thought that they were wasted on Terry.
During my twenty-six years of bliss; we were together a year before we married; I always looked at other women, but that was all, something made so much easier, as they all paled in comparison with my Jane. I had started looking again about eighteen months after her death, but in the same way, that is assessing them sexually, sensually and for intelligence, which has always been a prerequisite for me. I had no inclination to do anything other than look; anything more would seem a betrayal. There were many women in our office that passed inspection with flying colours; Terry was not one of them.
She was talking with, amongst others, Jill Andrews, who most definitely was one of my passes. Tall, nearly six foot, slim and exceptionally pretty, I knew that she was probably the one that could tempt me. I knew that one of the reasons I allowed myself to dream of Jill was her inaccessibility; she was safe for me to think about, as there was no way I could compete with her current partner Sam. Samantha Hawkes also worked in the company and was another cracker; I don't believe in a God, but if he does exist than he sure has a cruel sense of humour.
I'd noticed a few times in the past that when some of the women in the room want to have a good bitch at the males of the species, Jill is often chosen as the one to moan to. They think that she hates men; which, I happen to know is not the case; she gets on great with men, just not in bed.
"They're always after the same thing." I heard the Irish voice shout. "And when they've had it they move onto the next. I honestly believe that you and Sam have the right idea; do without men all together."
Jill nodded. Another reason she was often chosen to confide in was that she was a good listener, she actually liked people; she was one of those few friends that I hadn't managed to scare off. She was probably the best one I had at work, maybe the best one outside my family. She was well aware of what I'd been through, and put others through, during the last two years, she herself had been on the receiving end more than once, but she'd stuck by me.
My mind, taking any opportunity to think about Jane, recalled the first time my lovely wife met Jill. It had been a leaving do, for someone that I didn't really know; I'd gone as an opportunity to get to know some of my new colleagues and to allow Jane to meet a few of the names she'd already heard. Sitting, as I did, so close to Jill, she was one of the few I already knew, so it was not too surprising that we all ended up talking. Being with Jill, even at work, was nearly always pleasurable and that's not counting how easy she was on the eyes. This must have been quite apparent to my wife because she'd joked.
"I can see I may have reason for some jealousy here."
I say joked because my wife knew me well enough to feel total confidence in our relationship.
Jill theatrically looked me up and down, and then did similar to Jane. "No!" She said simply, "however, if I can get you alone, then he might have something to be jealous about."
The image of these two lovely and gorgeous women naked together was arousing on a basic level but very scary emotionally. I decided, promptly, that I didn't want even my imagination going along that route.
"Hey! I heard that." Purred a very sexy voice from just behind Jill.
Jill laughed and pulled the voice's owner around to face us. She was wearing a very fashionable business suit and wore her hair cut very short. Neither hid her very natural beauty. Jill introduced us. "This is Sam, my partner." The look of love that passed between them removed any thought of a wind up. I was momentarily shocked, which was noticed by all three women, who all found my reaction quite amusing.
"What a waste." I laughed with great originality, something they must heard from most males.
Sam looked at the fabulous woman at my side and grinned. "I could say the same."
With the ice broken, a true friendship took its initial steps. Before long Sam and Jill were frequent guests at our house and they regularly entertained us at their lush apartment.
Terry's angry voice broke through my daydream, forcing me back to the present.
"We should extract enough sperm to keep our species going and then put down all males. Let's face it males are obsolete in today's scientific world."
"A bit extreme!" I stated, joining the conversation. "Besides if you don't want a man in your life there's no law that says you should." I smiled at my friend before adding, "That right Jill?"
She laughed, "Sure is! I've managed quite well without one."
"There you are then, proof that women don't need men."
"Jill chooses life without a man, a choice open to you too, but I don't hear her advocating our total demise."
Terry looked round angrily at me. "Who asked you anyway, no one was talking to you; besides what do you know about women you sad little lonely man. I heard you were once married; she died riding a bike, too fast from what I heard, what was it? Did she need to get away from you or was it a bike between her legs was the only way she could get any satisfaction?"
I shot out of my chair, with my fists clenched, and stood in front of her. I could not even find the words to tell her what I thought, as I fought hard, very hard, not to hit her. Like any couple, even extremely happy ones, we'd had occasional rows, a couple really blazed, but I hadn't even come close to raising a hand to her. It was as much for Jane's memory as anything else, that I kept from striking the evil bitch in front of me.
To her credit she didn't back away, just turned to Jill and said. "Typical man, only knows how to talk to women with his fists."
When Jill interrupted, her voice in unheard fury, "Teresa shut up and go away, NOW!" Terry looked in shock at the normally placid Jill, her words and tone affecting her more than mine ever could. Without another word Terry stormed off back to her own desk. The other women around suddenly found important work to do.
When I finally calmed down some, I thanked Jill, and told her I was going for a walk.